


Memory Loss

by SirJoker



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirJoker/pseuds/SirJoker
Summary: Clara Oswald’s content life as the owner of a pub is about to be turned upside down when she finds an unconscious man at her doorstep with no memory of who he is. [Victorian AU]
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 86
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I hope this year will be better and that everyone's doing ok. To kick-off, 2021, I decided to post a new fic which I started working on last month, so enjoy!
> 
>   
> 

John Smith paced through the busy streets of London in a hurry. He produced his pocket watch and checked the time. Five minutes to spare.

He grumbled under his breath, wondering why on earth he had agreed to go to the meeting in the first place. He couldn't care less about it and yet here he was, making his way to his late uncle's townhouse.

John stopped dead in his tracks when a speeding carriage nearly collided with him.

A second later, the door swung open and he was greeted by the sight of his sister.

"I'm surprised to see you here."

"He insisted in the letter that I come," John replied before gesturing her to enter the house first.

He recalled spending a significant part of his youth in the townhouse. John looked around the hallway as he took off his coat and handed it to the servant. The last time he was here was around two years ago and the house hasn't changed all that much.

"Mr Moffatt is waiting for you in the study."

Missy Smith did not utter a single word nor acknowledge the long-time servant as she quickly made her way to the study.

"I'm guessing she's in another one of her mood swings."

"When is she not, Palmer," John sighed as he reluctantly followed his sister.

"Ms Smtih, Dr Smith," a man in a grey suit greeted as he was opening his briefcase. "So glad you could make it."

"Enough dilly-dallies," Missy grunted as she sat down on one of the leather armchairs, waiting for her uncle's fortunes to be transferred over to her. "Just skip all the boring bits."

Mr Moffatt pursed his lips before letting out a defeated sigh. This wasn't the first time he had seen such a scene and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He produced a letter. "Luckily for all of us, the will written by your late uncle is a short one."

Missy crossed her arms, scowling as she impatiently tapped her foot.

"I shall, as Missy said, 'skip all the boring bits'," the lawyer put on a pair of spectacles before unfolding the letter. He cleared his throat. "All my assets, liquid and otherwise, I leave it to my nephew, John Smith."

Missy frowned, her arms dropping while John raised both his eyebrows.

"My estate in both Edinburgh and York, I leave it to my nephew, John Smith."

"My shipping company, Archie & Co., I leave it to John Smith."

The younger of the siblings dropped her mouth. She had expected one of the estates to go to her.

"As for my home in London, I leave it to my nephew, John Smith," Mr Moffatt continued.

John ran a hand through his silver curls, wondering what on earth was going on. Never did he expect to inherit all of his uncle's wealth.

"Finally," Mr Moffatt continued. "For my niece, Missy Smith."

Missy's face lit up at the mention of her name, feeling a glimmer of hope rise up in her chest.

"This 'wrinkled old prune' leaves you with nothing."

Her face immediately dropped.

Both men stared at her, waiting for hell to break loose.

There was nothing but silence for the next few seconds before she erupted in a fit of rage, demanding the lawyer to hand over the will so she could read it herself while also announcing that there had to be an error in the will.

John, on the other hand, was too shocked to acknowledge the commotion. Why on earth would his uncle leave everything to him? It didn't make sense since the man was clearly fonder of his sister. Well, to his knowledge, it was. They must have had a falling out.

"This is fake!"

John snapped out of his thoughts. "Missy, calm down."

"Oh, shut it, dear brother," she sneered. "You've practically inherited everything from him!"

"Missy," he began, trying to reason with her.

She stormed out of the study, declaring that the letter was a fraud and that she will get to the bottom of the issue.

The doors slammed with a loud bang and John turned to face the lawyer.

"Well, I suppose with her gone, it's safe to hand this to you," Mr Moffatt said as he handed the physician a sealed envelope.

John studied it carefully. There was only his name written at the front. "What is this?"

Mr Moffatt shook his head. "The contents are for your eyes only, according to the will."

He pondered what his uncle could have written before lifting his head. "Thank you."

"Always a pleasure dealing with you and your late uncle," the lawyer replied.

John sighed. "I suppose we'll be meeting again soon."

"Oh, most definitely, judging by how your sister reacted," the older man laughed before collecting his belongings. "I bid you a good day, Dr Smith."

Without another word, the lawyer left and John was left to himself in the study room, in the very house which now belongs to him. There were so many things he had to think about now. What will he do in such a big house? Missy, his cosy flat and not to mention his uncle's company. He doesn't know a single thing about business and has no interest in it.

"Master John," a voice from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Palmer?"

"Shall your room be prepared?"

He considered the option. "I won't be staying for long," he said. "There's a patient I need to see in an hour."

"Very well, sir."

Then again, he would have to come back at some point – sooner rather than later as he is now the master of the house. "On second thought, just prepare it in case."

The elderly man nodded.

"And Palmer."

"Sir?"

"Stop calling me 'sir'," John complained. He had known most of the servants in the household all his life and it was strange being referred to as such.

"Very well, Master John," Palmer murmured with a smile.

\-- 

"The nerve of that rotting old man!" Missy hissed as she discarded a copy of the will into the fireplace.

She watched as the fire engulfed the piece of paper. She had hoped to at least inherit one of the estates from her dear old uncle, but it seemed he left her with nothing. Nothing. How on earth is she going to pay her mounting debts now?

Missy paced back and forth, racking her brain for some sort of plan, anything. She was getting desperate. What option did she have left?

Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. An idea popped inside her head. "No, that's ridiculous," she mumbled, though the more she considered the idea, the more convinced she was that it would work.

She could always ask to borrow money, but then he would likely brush her off. Their sibling bond isn't what she would call a close one. More like frosty. They always had a love-hate relationship and barely got along.

Though, it wouldn't hurt to pay him a visit and try to sweet-talk him into sharing some of that wealth.

And that was exactly what Missy did later that evening. She patiently waited in the carriage, which was parked right across the street from her brother's flat, observing the passerby. She knew that he would return home from his dutiful duties as a doctor at any moment.

"I'm guessing you're not here to say hi," her brother said from the other side of the window. He was exhausted and the last thing he wanted to deal with is his sister who has shown up for one obvious reason only.

Missy forced a smile. "Would it kill you to be nice to me for once?" she mumbled before stepping out.

The two siblings barely exchanged any words as John entered his flat with his sister following suit.

"Still hasn't changed since the last time I was here."

John set his bag on the armchair before turning around to face her.

Missy's eyes scanned the tiny living room. She was never fond of the place from the very beginning. Everything just seemed old and shabby.

"If this is about Uncle Archie's will, then I can assure you that I have yet to inherit anything," he explained. "I haven't signed the papers yet."

Missy's eyes lit up. "You haven't?"

He eyed her carefully, remembering the letter he had received and read the previous day. "Two-thousand pounds."

"It was mostly because my home was under major renovations."

"More so of you being reckless with money," John snapped. "How did you burn two-thousand pounds in half a year?!"

Missy rolled her eyes. First her late uncle and now her brother.

"What have you been up to?"

Missy glared at her brother. The initial idea she came up with becoming clearer than ever. "Oh, you know, clothes, jewellery and not to mention, debts."

That was all it took for John to understand her situation. She was never wise about her spending habits. Always acted on impulse.

"You have a problem, and you need to fix it."

"Once I get a bit of help."

John sighed in defeat. "I can't do that since it's part of the will," he revealed. "I'm not allowed to transfer anything to you unless you can prove to Moffatt that you are financially independent for the next four months."

Missy frowned. How utterly unbelievable. She has payments to make and this is how her family treats her in her time of need? Ridiculous. She had no intention of changing her lifestyle. "You're as bad as him."

"Believe me, I wish I could help you, but my hands are tied."

With a huff, she stormed out of the flat, vowing to get what she saw was rightfully hers.

John could only watch his sister leave, knowing all too well that it was pointless to talk to her when she was angry.

The morning after the discussion with his sister was a fairly mundane one. He visited several of his patients, went to the chemist and then came home. He had pushed the meeting with Moffatt a few days back as he still needed a bit of time to process everything.

Peace did not last long in his flat when a woman came knocking at his door frantically, begging him to help her son who had fallen ill.

The poor boy had come down with a fever and he assured the mother that all would be fine for as long as medication was taken and that he received proper rest.

It was around four in the evening when he had wrapped things up. The skies were already dark and oil lamps lit the almost empty streets.

John adjusted his hat before striding in the direction of his home.

Halfway through the journey, he felt a pair of eyes watching him. He was sure that there was at least one person tailing him and he whirled around to nothing.

He looked around, scanning every corner to make sure that his imagination wasn't going wild before he continued walking.

"Dr Smith," a deep voice said.

John turned around and ducked just in time as a fist shot past him. The assailant attempted another punch, but John was quicker and hit him with his bag, causing the man to stumble backwards.

John turned the other way, thinking that he was safe, but it was too late when he realised that another man was closing in on him and delivered a blow to his head with a brick.

He tumbled to the pavement, feeling dizzy, staring at the assailants before losing consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Just wipe the counter, yeah?" Clara Oswald instructed her nephew of 12 years old while she carried a crate into the kitchen.

Jamie lifted up the worn-out rag. "Why can't I do something else?" he complained. "This is boring."

"Because I'm the boss," she said smugly, emerging from the kitchen. "Once you're done with that, you can rearrange the chairs."

"Or maybe you could teach me how to-"

Clara shook her head. "Absolutely not."

Her nephew pouted. "I'm not a small boy anymore."

She had to intention of dealing with his complaints and arguments at the moment and was conveniently saved by the delivery man.

"Here's the total for today," he said, handing a piece of paper to her. "Mr Davies said that he gave a ten-percent discount."

Clara's lips curved upwards into a smile. "Tell him I said thanks."

The man nodded as she handed him the money. He pocketed the cash and told himself to walk out the door, but had trouble doing so. Since the moment he laid eyes on Clara Oswald, he hasn't been the same. He knew she was a tough nut to crack, but that didn't mean he didn't want to at least try his luck.

"You alright, Danny?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. "Yeah, fine… I'll see you tonight if Mr Davies lets me off early."

"You're always welcome at the pub," Clara replied before resuming her tasks, ignoring the look her nephew was giving her.

Once Danny was gone, Jamie took the opportunity to tease her aunt. "Nan's going to like this."

Clara laughed. "You're just imagining things."

The boy merely shrug. He always found it amusing that their beloved nan would always try to coax Clara into putting a bit more attention into her love life.

And his aunt would always give the same excuse: she didn't have time to think about lovers and husbands when running a pub.

"It's almost opening time," Clara commented. "We need to reserve three tables for Harry – he's throwing a party of some sort."

"Yes, ma'am," Jamie said, giving her a mocking salute.

\-- 

"That Danny fellow seems like such a nice young man," nan commented casually as she helped her granddaughter clear the tables. "I saw the two of your talking earlier."

Clara grimaced. She knew exactly where their little chit chat was going.

"Maybe it's about time you stop worrying about us and the pub all the time and take a break to work on your love life."

"Nan!" the younger woman exclaimed, giggling. "I am perfectly happy living with you and Jamie – that's happiness for me."

"I never said anything about ignoring us completely," nan said. "But it's ok to be in love, dear."

Clara shook her head. "We'll just leave that hanging in the air, yeah," she mimicked the gesture of leaving an object suspended.

"Alright, but if you do find someone, don't let anything stop you from getting him!" nan teased as she laughed as she entered the kitchen, leaving behind an amused Clara.

Silently, Angela Oswald prayed that God would send her granddaughter a man, a good one at that.

In the early hours of the morning, Clara found herself contemplating her life. She had difficulty imagining her future in any other way aside from managing the pub. Sure, there had been a few she fancied but it was nothing more than that. "Nan's just being her usual self," she said out loud.

Silently, she climbed into bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. It would be another busy day for Clara in the morning, and she needed her rest.

An hour into her sleep, the sound of a commotion outside the pub woke her up. She had initially thought it was just a couple of wild dogs, but when she heard the sound of a horse neighing, she shot up in bed and raced downstairs.

The moment she pushed the doors open, she spotted two dark figures staring at her for a second before climbing onto their horses and making a run for it.

She blinked several times, wondering what on earth was going on until she realised there was something on the ground, or rather someone.

"What's going on?" Jamie said sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"There's… there's someone there," Clara said as she stepped out.

Jamie's eyes widened and he followed his aunt. When he spotted the figure, he knew that it was a man and prayed to God that he wasn't dead.

Clara tapped the man on the shoulder once. "Hello…."

She waited for a response, heart thumping. Just as she was about to think he was dead, the man groaned, lifting his head slightly before he shut his eyes again. "Jamie, help me carry him."

The boy didn't need to be told twice what to do and grabbed the man by his shoulders while Clara lifted his legs.

"Oh my goodness!" nan exclaimed as she watched Clara and Jamie carry the unconscious man into the dimly lit pub. It must have been around five in the morning.

"We found him lying out in the freezing street," Jamie explained as he carefully lay the man on top of a table. He would have struggled to do so had his auntie not help.

Clara gently slapped the man's cold face and he groaned in pain again before drifting back to sleep. "Yep, he's alive."

Nan carefully walked out of the pub, pulling the robe tighter to her as the chilly wind hit her face. She looked up at the skies. "Not what I meant but alright, I guess."

"Jamie," Clara called. "Could you get Martha?"

"Now?" the boy yelped, looking briefly at the open doors. He was going to freeze out there.

"Not in your pyjamas, Jamie," his aunt added before turning her attention to the stranger. He had a sizeable open wound on the left side of his head.

"Alright," the 12-year-old said before sprinting upstairs.

"Poor man," nan commented before walking to the fireplace. It was getting too chilly for her liking.

"I saw two others who fled," Clara revealed as she went to the kitchen. "They must have beaten him up."

"But I've never seen this man before."

Nan took a closer look at the man. She guessed that he might be in his early fifties.

"Ok, I don't think it will take too long to get to Martha's house," Jamie announced, putting on a black coat.

"Shouldn't take longer than twenty minutes."

It took Jamie 45 minutes to fetch Martha and then bring her to the pub.

It was still dark by the time they had arrived, and the midwife finally understood what Jamie had meant when he told her his aunt found a man outside the pub.

"You do realise that I'm not a physician, right?" she said, setting her bag on the empty table next to her.

Clara nodded. "Better you than sending Jamie to Dr Mott who lives an hour away," she explained. "Besides, he still hasn't stopped bleeding," she continued, showing Martha the wound. "I tried putting pressure on the wound and he kept moving his head."

Martha took a moment to examine the wound. "He needs stitches," she concluded. "Luckily, I brought some with me."

It took her some time to complete the procedure and once she was done, the trio moved the stranger to a spare room in the back.

"Well, I might not be a physician, but I think I did a fairly acceptable job there," Martha commented, eyeing the man. "I would still advice you to get Dr Mott."

Clara nodded. "Yep, we will."

She glanced at the stranger and wondered how he ended up in such a predicament. She assumed that he was being robbed but it didn't look that way when she found him.

\-- 

"He's got a serious concussion and I have to say that Martha did well to stitch the wound," Dr Wilfred Mott explained after examining his new patient. "I doubt he'll wake up anything soon, but I would advise you to keep an eye on him every now and then."

"When do you think he'll regain consciousness?" Clara inquired out of curiosity.

Wilf shrugged. "It could be in a few hours or it could be in a day, it's hard to say, but any longer than two days and you'd have to inform me," he replied. "For now, he needs rest."

"Thanks, Wilf," Clara said. "Drinks will be on the house if you ever stop by."

The man chuckled. "Thank you, Clara."

The day passed like a breeze and while Clara and nan were occupied preparing the pub for another busy night, Jamie was tasked with watch duty in addition to revising since his aunt justified that he had nothing else to do aside from sitting in a chair.

"Have me do arithmetic why don't you," the boy grumbled under his breath as he scribbled on a piece of paper.

Jamie could hear people laughing in the background and wished he was doing something fun instead of studying.

He heard the sound of something moving behind him and whirled around.

"Where…," the man managed, groaning blinking his eyes. "Where am I?"

Jamie was speechless for a few moments, wondering what to do before common sense took over and he raced to the door to get his aunt.

He spotted her chatting to Danny and coughed.

"Everything ok, Jamie?" Clara asked when she noticed that he looked concerned.

He nodded. "I just need to talk to you in private," the boy said.

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"It's the homework, the extra one."

The dots in Clara's mind finally connected and she couldn't have been more thankful for the distraction. As much as she likes Danny, she couldn't see them together as an item.

"I think he's awake," Jamie whispered as they entered the back room.

The man who had been sleeping on the sofa was now sitting upright and clutching his head. "What's going on?" he managed, shutting his eyes in pain.

Clara stepped forward. "We found you unconscious on the street this morning," she explained. "The doctor said you have a concussion."

He lifted his head and she finally got a good look at him. It was the blue eyes that struck her the most and the expressive eyebrows.

The man looked around. "Where am I?"

"Oswald's Pub," she revealed before realising that he must be thirsty and left the room to fetch him a glass of water.

"Thank you," the man said in a raspy voice as he downed the drink.

"I'm Clara Oswald, by the way, and this is my nephew, Jamie."

The boy waved awkwardly. "Hi."

"If it wasn't for him, you would have been lying out in the street longer than necessary."

He gently touched his throbbing head, trying to subside the ache.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

It then struck him. He had no recollection of the event that led him here. He had no recollection of anything. Just this faint memory of a woman discovering him. "No…"

Clara settled down in the chair in front of him. "Well, what's your name?"

"Doctor…" he struggled. He could feel the name at the tip of his tongue. Doctor. He's a doctor, isn't he? "Doctor…"

"Doctor Who?"


	3. Chapter 3

"We're done for it."

"Will you calm down you twit!"

"She's going to kill us before we even get our next payment."

Braxton Shields glanced at his accomplice with an annoyed look. "Will you think for once you bloody idiot."

William Sawyer raised both his eyebrows. "What are you saying?"

"The boss-lady gave us a generous deposit," he pointed out. "We could bail right now if we wanted to."

"What about her brother?"

Braxton shrugged. "Who the hell cares?" he retorted. "They're rich people, so I'm sure she'll eventually hire someone else or go to the police once she realises her brother isn't back yet."

William smiled. It was as if a lightbulb finally lit-up in his head. His friend was right. They were paid generously to kidnap the woman's brother and keep him captive for a month, and now they get to keep whatever money she gave them for their living expenses. "This is why you're the smart one."

Braxton grinned. "You bet your arse."

\-- 

"Is there anything else you can remember aside from her face?" Wilf asked as he examined the Doctor's wound.

"No."

With a sigh, Dr Mott pursed his lips. "I'm afraid you're suffering from memory loss."

"Is it permanent?" his patient asked in concern.

"I don't think so, considering you remembered that you are a doctor," Wilf said.

What was he supposed to do now? He can't remember a single thing before being discovered by the owner of the pub.

"We'd be happy to accommodate you until you regain some of your memories," Clara offered, as though she had read his mind.

As much as he wanted to decline his offer, he had nowhere to go and could only nod in agreement. "Thank you."

"And in the meantime, I think we'll call you Doctor," Clara suggested, flashing him a cheeky smile. The Doctor felt his lips move by themselves upwards.

"In that case, I think my job here is done for now," Wilf announced as he packed his belongings before he glanced at the Doctor. "You still need plenty of rest after receiving a blow to the head like that, so no straining for the next couple of days."

He nodded, lightly tapping the wound. A thought then occurred to him. What was he supposed to do while recovering? He can't just sit in the spare room of a pub owner.

"Thanks, Wilf," Clara said as she escorted him to the door.

"Do let me know if I'm needed."

While her granddaughter and Dr Mott were chatting, nan took the opportunity to speak to the Doctor. "You had quite the bump there."

He turned to the door and was greeted by the warm smile of the elderly woman.

"Yes," he replied, settling back down in a chair.

"If you need anything, my granddaughter will be more than happy to help you," nan continued. "Don't let the height fool you."

The Doctor could only shoot her an awkward look.

"Any luck with Dr Mott on the memories?"

He shook his head. "No, he thinks that I might have short-term memory loss – I can't remember much of anything… everything's muddled."

"Well, at least we know one thing."

The man raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You're Scottish."

The Doctor stared at her with a blank look. "Yes, I think that makes sense, somehow."

Nan then took a quick glance at his wedding finger and her eyes lit up when she realised that he didn't have a wedding ring. Perfect. Besides, he doesn't look like he's married. "I shall not bother you any longer," she said, getting to her feet. "And please make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

The Doctor waited for the woman to leave before he slouched on the chair. He couldn't shake the feeling that Clara's nan had something else on her mind. He wasn't exactly sure what it is, but whatever it may be, he felt a bit uneasy.

He stood up and looked at his face in the mirror. He remembers the face and he knows that he is a physician, but apart from that, everything else is void. Is he married? Does he have a family? Are they searching for him?

"Knock, knock," a voice behind him said. It was from Clara. "I know this all seems weird because I can't imagine it being anything else, but I just wanted to let you know that you are welcome here."

He could have sworn he saw her blushing or maybe it was a trick of the eye. How many times has she said that to him now? "I'll… keep that in mind."

Clara looked around for a second longer. "Right, better, get going then since the pub isn't going to prep itself."

"Oh, would you like me to help?" he offered. The Doctor thought that it was the least he could do.

"No, you need to rest, just like Wilf said."

He had forgotten about the advice. "Yes, of course."

"Better get going then," she said before leaving the room, wondering what on earth is wrong with her. She had never been this awkward before.

"So, I take it you like the Doctor?" Jamie teased with a grin.

"He's our guest."

The boy's smile grew wider. "Not what I meant."

"You're beginning to sound like nan."

Jamie shrugged. "Sticks and stones."

Clara shook her head. It's ridiculous. You can't just fall in love with someone the moment you lay your eyes on them. Those are just fairy tales.

\-- 

"What do you mean he's missing?" Missy asked, feigning concern.

"He was supposed to sign the agreement two days ago and I haven't heard a word from him."

"Perhaps he's tending to a patient who lives outside of London."

Mr Moffatt raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Why would he just leave without leaving a note or message?"

She shrugged. "Must have been an emergency."

The lawyer shook his head. "No, I believe that something is amiss."

Missy shook her head. "You don't think he's actually missing, do you, my brother, John Smith, the man who likes to disappear every now and then."

"I've told you before that we were to meet two days ago but nothing!"

Missy tried to look worried. "I think we should wait for another day before getting the police involved."

Mr Moffatt pursed his lips. A part of him wanted to argue with her further but the other told him to be calm and reasoned that John was indeed just tending to his patients. She did mention he had a habit of disappearing occasionally. "Very well," he said in defeat. "But I will head straight to the police station tomorrow morning if I do not hear news of him."

She shut the door and pondered, not leaving her spot. So far, things were going according to plan, but what didn't sit well with her was that the men she hired to take her brother to her estate have yet to return. She was beginning to suspect that something went wrong, or maybe she's just being paranoid. The men she hired weren't exactly what she would call intelligent, but they understood her instructions, or at least that was the impression she got from one of them.

"Give it a few more days," she said to herself.

The plan that she had come up with worked flawlessly in her mind. Her brother would be up in Scotland, under the assumption that he was missing and her one of the hired help would travel back to report to her. She would then go to the police and claim that John is missing. In a month, the unclaimed wealth will then go to her. Simple.

However, the outcome she expected was slowly diverging and she didn't like that one bit. It's either her brother is seriously injured and fled with the money or they did really do their job while at the same time being incompetent.

The following morning, Mr Moffatt paid her a visit and informed her that he had reported John missing. She, of course, had to pretend to be anxious and worried about his whereabouts and well-being.

"I heard from my driver that a man was beaten up outside Webber's pub the night Dr Smith went missing," the lawyer revealed.

Missy looked at the wall behind him. "You don't think that incident has anything to do with John's disappearance, do you?"

The man eyed her carefully. "I'm not sure, but it is too much of a coincidence."

"Did the driver get a good look at the man?"

Mr Moffatt shook his head. "No, he heard the story from a friend of his who was walking out of the pub – he thought that it was just a couple of drunkards fighting."

"I hope we'll find him soon," Missy said, taking a sip of her tea.

\-- 

"So this is the kitchen, obviously," Jamie explained. "My aunt doesn't know how to cook very well, but she is a good baker – you should try her souffle!"

The Doctor nodded in silence, looking around the tiny, but cosy kitchen. "Avoid cooked meals from Clara, I'll keep that in mind."

It had been four days since he had been living with the Oswald family and they had been nothing but accommodating and kind, though he still had a feeling that the granny was up to something. A part of his memory also came back, nothing too significant, unfortunately, but he knew that he was born in Bishopbriggs. It was a start.

"Just don't tell her I said that," the 12-year-old whispered. "Anyway, let's continue with the tour."

They walked past the staircase and entered the pub. "And this is the pub."

The boy then got behind the counter and sat down on the stool. "It's usually crowded every night and I help out until around ten."

"Jamie, what are you doing?" Clara asked with an amused tone.

"Just giving the Doctor a tour of the pub."

"Not much to see, I'm afraid," she chuckled.

The Doctor grinned. "I think your nephew is quite the tour guide."

It was then Jamie realised that his aunt was ready to head to the market to scour for ingredients. An idea popped in his head. "You know, I don't think you've gone out much," he said to the Doctor.

Clara knew exactly where the conversation was going. If it were any other man, she would have happily went off, but the thought of the Doctor coming along was one she didn't mind at all. "I'm heading to the market," she revealed. "The walk there will give you a chance to see what Broughton is like."

The Doctor nodded. "That would be nice, I suppose," he replied. "I'll just go get my coat."

The moment they left, nan emerged from the staircase with a smile. "I knew I taught you well."

"It was easy because you can tell they like each other."

Nan had a feeling that she was going to get another great-grandchild in the near future and she couldn't wait for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like they've joined forces! XD


	4. Chapter 4

Detective Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart watched the woman in front of him sniff. He was used to this sort of thing by now, having been in charge of solving kidnapping and disappearance cases, so a relative crying was nothing new to him, though something about the woman's behaviour seemed a bit strange.

"I last saw him in the evening after the will was read," Missy said. "We had an argument… I was bitter that my uncle didn't leave anything for me – not even a token of our relationship, and he had, my brother, offered to share half the fortune, but I refused."

"Why is that?"

"I had no interest in it," she replied, dabbing her nose with a handkerchief.

"Why were you cut out of the will?"

Missy lowered her gaze. "My late uncle and I, we had a falling out," she revealed. "He knew I was in debt and offered to pay, but I declined as I was more than capable of solving the issue myself, but he paid half of it, ignoring my wishes and I ended up calling him a 'wrinkled old prune', which I regret terribly."

The truth was, Missy had asked money from her Uncle Archie. A huge sum at that which he looked further into and discovered that his niece had been gambling and purchasing expensive jewellery well beyond her means. Naturally, he was upset and spoke to her about it.

Missy, was unsurprisingly, was very defensive, stating that it was a misunderstanding and that she needed the money to renovate her home in Glasgow.

Archie, having had enough of her attitude which he had to endure for decades, cut her out of the will.

The detective glanced at his notes and pressed his lips together. "That will be all, Ms Smith."

"Will you contact me if there is any news regarding John?"

Alistair guided her to the door. "We will."

"There's no indication that he has left London," his partner added, receiving a stern look from the detective.

Missy flashed a sad smile. "I certainly hope so," she said.

\-- 

"It's very peaceful here," the Doctor commented as his eyes scanned the green field stretching all the way to the mountains.

"It's the reason why I prefer to take the long way round to the market," she confessed. "A lot less busy, too."

Silence took over for the next few minutes until Clara spoke again.

"How's the head?"

"I, well, remembered something – born in Bishopbriggs," the Doctor revealed. "Though the head still hurts a bit, sort of like tiny humans kicking the bruise," he added, earning a giggle from her.

"I guess it takes a bit of time after getting hit with a brick."

"Everything just seems fuzzy, it's as though I can see it, but it's blurry at the same time."

An idea then popped inside her head. Perhaps taking him to Glasgow would help revive some of his memories. It seemed to work when he mentioned that he used to have a golden pocket watch gifted to him by his mother when he spotted one by one of her patrons.

"Would taking you there help?"

"Where?"

"Bishopbriggs."

He chuckled. "I have no money, and I'm very sure that I will need to find lodging."

"I'd be happy to help," she offered, and he immediately shook his head.

Clara was already kind enough to allow him to live in her pub and he couldn't ask more from her. It's wasn't as though he had anything to offer to repay her. "I'm sure the lost memories will be restored eventually."

She, however, wasn't ready to take no for answer. "I think it will help," she insisted. "And you could stay there for a few days."

They had finally arrived at the busy marketplace and the Doctor thought it was best to put the conversation to the side.

"I didn't imagine it would be this busy."

Clara grinned. "It's busy like this every single day."

He raised an eyebrow. "You go here every day?"

"To look for ingredients and supplies – the pub is open every day except on Christmas."

They reached a stall selling produce and stopped as Clara examined a few vegetables.

"Morning, Clara," the woman greeted before landing her eyes on the Doctor. "I see you brought your new friend."

"I thought I'd bring him around to see the marketplace," she replied. "I'll take three of these and a sack of potatoes, Margaret."

"I'll have them delivered before three," Margaret said before darting her eyes between Clara and the Doctor. Looks like the rumour about Clara Oswald finding an unconscious man at her doorstep was true.

They continued walking down the road before stopping at another stall. This time, it was Mr Davies who said hello to them. "What can I get you today, Miss Oswald, Miss Oswald's friend."

"Just the usual, Mr Davies," she replied. At this point, she was sure that the entire town had heard about the Doctor.

"Danny!" Mr Davies called. "Get the crates ready!"

Danny Pink then emerged from an alleyway and he nearly dropped the items he was carrying when he saw Clara. He stumbled when he saw the man standing close to her. His friends were telling the truth then. "Yes, sir."

"Hi, Danny."

"Hello, Clara," he answered with a nervous smile before Mr Davies nodded to the crates.

"Expect him to drop by when you return to the pub."

"Thanks."

Clara couldn't help but shake the feeling that asking the Doctor to come along with her was a mistake. People were staring at him as though he was from another world. She was sure he felt uncomfortable.

"We could go back if you'd like."

He was surprised by her suggestion. "Why would we do that?"

"Well…"

"Have you completed your task?"

"No…"

The Doctor shrugged. "Then we'll leave once it's finished," he decided. "I couldn't care less if they think I'm from the moon."

She could only beam in response. "Quite the gentleman, aren't you?"

Clara and the Doctor resumed their stroll, making stops at a few more stalls before they stood outside a building which had a sign. 'Bookshop'.

He stared at it for a brief moment before glancing at her. "What are we doing here?" he asked. "Do your patrons read books while drinking?"

Clara chuckled, shaking her head. "No, that would be a lot more pleasant than breaking up fights, but we're here because this is my favourite shop."

The gears in his head finally started spinning. "Oh, what books do you read?"

They entered the bookshop together. Clara was about to answer the Doctor's question when a voice from the back spoke. "Finally got you another copy of Jane Eyre!"

"That's one," Clara said. "Anything, really, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens – if it's a book, I'll read it."

"I nearly had to beat somebody up to get this…," Donna Noble muttered, holding the book in the air when she saw the Doctor. "Thing."

"Thank you, Donna," Clara took the book and carefully held it in her hands.

"So you're the lost boy grandad's been talking about."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Dr Mott is Donna's grandad."

Well, that makes zero sense. "Yes."

"What kind of a doctor are you if you keep calling yourself the Doctor, eh?"

"Donna, give him a break."

The bookshop owner squinted her eyes. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then pointed them at his. "I'm watching you, Scottish boy."

The Doctor wondered what he had done to have given Donna Noble the wrong impression about him.

"She's like that with everybody," Clara explained once they were outside. "But she means well, trust me."

"Right."

\-- 

Missy Smith sipped her cup of tea, enjoying the peace and silence of the restaurant. She glanced at the grandfather clock and noted that it was another five minutes before her new hire showed up.

It has been over a week since her brother's disappearance and when she came to the conclusion that the two goons she hired were never returning, she made the decision to rectify the issues. The first step would be to hire someone more competent and professional, which meant that she needed to fork out whatever was left of her savings.

"Ms Smith."

She looked up and saw a burly man in a black coat.

"They say you're the best money can buy," she commented, gesturing him to sit down.

He took off his coat and sat in the empty seat.

She checked her nails, waiting for him to settle down. "My brother is missing," she said. "Along with the two idiots I tasked with babysitting him."

The man leaned against the chair, waiting for her to continue.

"Find those two idiots and then find my brother before reporting back to me," she instructed before pushing forward a white envelope to him. "The rest of the payment will be made once you return to London and everything else you need is in that as well."

Jerimiah Russell pocketed the envelope.

"And get back however much you can from them."

He stood up, nodded and turned around, heading in the direction of the exit.

Missy was eager to make sure that John was fine. She imagined he may have suffered minor injuries, but nothing too serious. As evil as she was, she still cared for him a little and making him disappear for real was never part of the plan.

She remained at the restaurant for another half an hour before deciding to pay Mr Moffatt a visit. It wouldn't hurt to inquire the state of the will, given the circumstances.

Before two in the afternoon, she made it to his office and waited patiently in the reception.

It didn't take long for Mr Moffatt's door to peek open and a young man gestured her in. "Ms Smith."

She was surprised to see the room void of Mr Moffatt. "Where is-"

"I am also Mr Moffatt," the young man said, flashing her a smile. "If you are referring to my father, then he is away on personal matters."

Missy frowned. The boy didn't look a day over 15! "And he left his teenage son in charge?" she said mockingly.

Henry Moffatt chuckled, folding his hands behind his back, walking to the desk. "I know looks can be deceiving, Ms Smith, but I can assure you that I am capable of running the ship while my father is absent."

She was not convinced a single bit. Then again, perhaps it would be easier to trick a child.

"Would it help if I told you that I was senior wrangler at Cambridge?"

He's still a child in her eyes.

"I came here to ask your father if there were any updates," she confessed.

Henry nodded, gesturing for her to sit down. "Yes, he mentioned that and have briefed me on the current situation," he said. "No progress has been made so far, unfortunately."

"And what of the will?"

"Well, there is no evidence of Dr Smith being dead, so it will be on hold for a month."

Missy shifted in her seat. "I'm sure it won't be long until he is found."

"Precisely," Henry agreed. "I have good faith that he is most likely lost somewhere."

Missy clenched her jaw. How on earth is she supposed to get to her objective without arousing suspicion. "What happens to my uncle's will then, after the deadline?" she inquired. "I have no intention of being involved in this."

"Well, we would have to find his next of kin, which is you, Ms Smith."

"Right," she replied, feigning sadness. "I hope it doesn't come to that – it's his right, to begin with."

The young man cleared his throat, leaning back against the chair as he eyed the woman. His father was right. Foul play is at hand.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor glanced at the boxes full of fresh ingredients in the kitchen, ideas popping up in his head. He had wondered who cooked the meals at the pub since Clara would be too busy to be in the kitchen to cook with her handling the orders and patrons. Jamie, according to his aunt, was not allowed to go near the stove after nearly setting fire to the kitchen a year ago.

"What's so interesting about the kitchen that's got you staring at it for ten minutes," Clara commented, amused.

He glanced over his shoulder before turning around to face her. "You serve food, right, every night?"

"Yes, nan would usually bake a few pastries and that's it," she explained.

"That's it?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering what the Doctor was thinking.

"I know how to cook, I think," he said.

Clara considered his offer. A lot of the patrons had been asking if hot food would be served at the pub and she could not deny doing so would increase their income and likely attract more customers, but she didn't want the Doctor to feel obligated to work.

"It's the least I can do for allowing me to stay here."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"Nan can take the time to rest and talk to people since she seems to be very good at that."

"Trust me, good is an understatement," she muttered under her breath, earning a puzzled look from him. She paused for a moment to fully consider his offer. "Well, alright, only because you want to."

The Doctor nodded, feeling a sense of relief. He felt a bit useless sitting around doing nothing and he was itching to make himself useful in some way. Maybe he could even offer to fix some of the loose doors at some point. "Yes, I'm very sure that I used to live alone and that meant preparing my own meals."

"You're not married?" she asked before realising what sort of question she was asking.

Why did she even ask such a stupid question in the first place?

The Doctor shrugged as he rolled up his sleeves. "I don't know… If I am, then surely my family would be looking for me right now."

She eyed him carefully. "You need a new set of clothes."

He looked down at his crumpled white shirt and black trousers. He only has one attire and another one borrowed from Clara. He did not think it was his place to ask where the clothes came from.

"The one from my brother barely fits you."

Well, that answered his burning question. "Jamie's father?"

Clara nodded silently. "He and his wife died from pneumonia a few years ago," she stated with a weary look.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he said awkwardly.

She shook her head. "That's just how life goes, right?"

The Doctor wasn't sure if he should say anything and decided to focus on his task. Pasties would be a good start and then maybe he could do something with the meat and potatoes.

Clara observed him for a second before going about her business.

\-- 

It took Jeremiah Russell three days to find those two hires his boss had instructed him to look for. It wasn't that difficult, to begin with since she had told them to take a specific route so as to avoid people as much as possible and not arouse suspicion. All he had to do was follow the trail and get his contacts to report to him of any sightings of the description he had given them.

The news led him to a small town called Euxton and when he spotted two horses with white and brown markings outside an inn, he was certain he had found his targets.

Jeremiah waited outside, waiting for the right time to either enter the inn. Patience is a virtue, after all, and he did not want to spook the two idiots.

When he realised that more people were arriving, he dismounted from his horse and decided to enter the pub.

"Been travelling?" the man behind the bar asked with a heavy accent.

He shrugged. "Just passing by," he murmured, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact. "Just a pint of beer."

The bartender began preparing his drink and he turned around to scan the room. It was not exactly crowded, but there were a handful of people. He just needed to find a plump looking man with a scar on his cheek and a skinny one.

"Where do you think we should head next?" a voice said from behind Jeremiah.

"Somewhere away from London, preferably," another retorted. "Manchester isn't far off."

Jeremiah glanced to his right and knew he had what he was looking for.

"Here's your beer."

He took a sip of the drink, eyes preying on the two men while discreetly placing a few pence on the bar.

When Braxton and William exited the pub, Jeremiah downed his drink before tailing them. The two men were just about to mount their horses when he approached them.

"Yes?" Braxton grumped.

"Ms Smith sends her regards."

Braxton's eyes widened and before he could react, Jeremiah took hold of the horse's reins. He didn't need to do much with William aside from glaring at him. It was a perk that came with looking big and scary.

There was silence before Braxton couldn't take it anymore. "Ok, we'll give her the money back."

"And the horses, obviously."

"Yes, yes, of course," Braxton laughed nervously before nodding at his friend to move away.

Jeremiah looked at them menacingly before extending his hand and opening his palm.

Reluctantly, Braxton produced a small bag from his pocket and handed it over. "Are we free to go?"

The private detective checked the contents, discovering a pocket watch too, before looking up. "Where did you leave the brother?"

"He actually fell off the horse," William began explaining but elbowed in the ribs by his friend.

"We're not entirely sure," Braxton said. "He fell and a woman at a pub found him."

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "Where."

"I don't know, we were in a hurry," Braxton replied.

He decided that the man needed some help jogging his memory and grabbed him by the collar. "Where."

"North of Preston!" Braxton squeaked. "Yes, in a small town not far off."

The large man released him before grabbing the other one. "What's the name of the pub?"

William grimaced. "I don't know, it was in the early hours when it happened."

Jeremiah shook him a bit. The tactic always seemed to be effective at helping people jog their memories.

"It was just an old, shabby-looking pub!" he continued. "A woman saw us, and we fled... she also had her son with her."

Satisfied with the information received, Jeremiah set the smaller man back down on the ground. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

He glared at the two men. "Sod off."

They didn't need to be told twice and scrambled away in a flurry. The detective watched the two fumbled about before reaching for his notebook in the pocket of his coat. He wrote down the details of the pub.

If it was north of Preston, that meant that Missy's brother wasn't far off from where he was and he could just travel there now, but that would mean leaving the horses unattended. Then again, he could bring the horses along with him.

Jeremiah decided to make the trip. He didn't want to waste resources going back and forth between London and wherever his client's brother is.

With that in mind, he whistled for his horse which immediately came running to him.

Passing through Preston, he came across a pub, but the owner was an old man who lives by himself, so clearly not what he was looking for and he continued his journey, reaching Broughton by dusk.

There was indeed a pub there and it was lively. People were drinking, laughing and having a good time overall.

"Clara, any more of the pasties?" a man asked gleefully as he leaned against the bar.

A woman who was likely half his height emerged from the kitchen with a basket full of fresh, hot food. "You're lucky he's being extra nice tonight."

Jeremiah observed her carefully before finding an empty seat.

"Hello, handsome," a voice said next to him.

It was an elderly woman who flashed him a sweet smile.

"Long day travelling?"

"Yes," he answered.

She eyed him from head to toe. "There's no need to be so tensed," she assured him. "Everyone here is as friendly as they can be."

Jeremiah was taken back by her and wasn't sure what to say.

"Drink?" the woman from earlier asked.

"Beer. Pint."

Jeremiah scanned the faces of the patrons there, looking for anybody who stood out. He spotted a boy going around empty tables and clearing all the glasses. This has to be it, but where was Smith?

"Who would have thought that the Doctor could make great food, yeah?"

Jeremiah's ears perked. The Doctor? Perhaps he could speak to the elderly lady after all. "Everyone seems to love the pasties."

Nan nodded. "We just got a new chef and he's been a great addition to the team ever since."

Jeremiah took a couple of sips before setting the pint down. "I think I'll try one," he said.

"Clara, dear, this man wants a taste of the pasty."

"It's sold out, I'm afraid," the pub owner replied. "It will be available tomorrow, though, so be sure to come early."

Jeremiah had to figure out another way to lure the pasty miracle worker. "It's fine."

"Angela!" a man with a raspy voice said, coming over to nan with a wide grin. "It's been forever!"

"Oh, back from your adventures in France, Marcus?" nan greeted.

Jeremiah breathed a sigh of relief now that the elderly woman wasn't sitting next to him and watching him.

"Hi, Marcus, how was France?" Clara asked.

"It's alright, I only went there for business, but the children love it."

The private detective continued to drink his beer in silence, eyeing the patrons every now and then. He just needed to wait for the right opportunity.

"Don't talk about my wife like that you bloody bastard!"

The pub immediately fell silent as Samuel Clarkson grabbed Edmond Black by the lapels of his jacket.

"Don't touch me!" Edmond hissed, shoving the man off of him as he raised a fist.

Clara then decided that she had to step in before things got ugly. She whistled and every single person in the room looked in her direction. "If you want to fight like a bunch of stupid children, I suggest you do it outside or not do it at all and talk like adults."

The two men glared at each other before distancing themselves away from each other.

Jeremiah finished his drink calmly before he turned around and set the empty pint on the bar.

"Miss Oswald schooling her students again, I see."

The Scottish brogue immediately caught the detective's attention and he looked up.

He was sure that the man is John Smith. His sister had described what he looked like in detail. The only thing off is that he had a scar on the left side of his forehead.

"You have to treat them like kids if they're behaving like one."

The Doctor changed the subject. "We're out of flour again, so we'll have to go to the market tomorrow."

While the two were chatting, Jeremiah wondered if the man was suffering from memory loss. It would explain why he hadn't returned to London or maybe he just fancies the pub owner because it looks like it.

"Sorry but is there lodging here?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, but there's an inn just ten miles from here."

It would do, but the first thing Jeremiah would have to do tomorrow morning is returning to London and inform his client of his findings.


	6. Chapter 6

When Missy received a telegram from the private detective she hired one morning, she nearly jumped out of her seat as she read the message. It was short and brief and told her that he had managed to retrieve the money, horses and found the man who he believes is her brother. The rest of the telegram gave her details of where to meet in the afternoon and she set off to prepare for the day.

They were to meet at the same restaurant they had met before and when she got there bang on time, Jeremiah Russell was already waiting for her.

"Well?" Missy said impatiently as she sat down. "Don't keep me in suspense."

Jeremiah produced the bag of money from his jacket pocket before placing it on the table and pushing it forward. "The horses have been returned to your stables and I found his pocket watch."

Missy smiled in satisfaction when she realised there was still quite a bit of money left. "What of my brother?"

"He's alive and well."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so where is he?"

"Broughton."

"What?" she gasped. What on earth was he doing there? She was half expecting him to jump at her at any given moment and berate her for kidnapping him.

"Small town north of Preston," Jeremiah began.

"Yes, I know where that is," she replied impatiently. "What is he doing there?" she demanded. "Did he hit his head and was adopted by someone?"

Jeremiah smirked. "Something of the sort.

Missy shot the private detective a look. Was this man playing games with her or is he serious?

"From what I gathered, he's living with a pub owner and her small family."

She knitted her eyebrows. Now, why the hell would her brother do that? Unless… "Are you telling me he doesn't remember what happened?"

Jeremiah shrugged. "Everyone calls him the Doctor there."

Missy snorted.

"I wasn't able to gather a lot of information due to the number of people inside the pub and Miss Oswald's grandmother kept her eye on me."

"Oh, she has a name," Missy commented with sarcasm before the gears in her mind began turning. This could be an advantage. Sure, her brother suffering from memory loss is tragic, but it does leave a bit of room for her to breathe and sort things out carefully. "Want to make a living?" she inquired, pushing the bag of money back to him just after retrieving the watch.

He silently took it.

"I want you to observe him for the time being and report back when needed," she said. "I just need him to stay put until everything is transferred over to me."

Jeremiah nodded, ready to leave when he was stopped by her raising her hand.

"There's one more thing I need you to do for me," she added. "Find out what you can about this Miss Oswald," she ordered. "It's best to get to know your brother's caretaker after all."

"Who else does he live with, aside from the grandmother?" she continued.

The private detective smoothed his shirt. "A boy no older than thirteen by the looks of it – I suspect that he may be a cousin of hers."

Satisfied with his explanation, Missy signalled for him to leave. A devious smile formed on her lips. Looks like she can get her way after all.

Now all she has to do is deal with Moffat.

\-- 

How long has he been here? Almost two weeks, maybe. He was sure of it and he loved every single moment of it. There was just something relaxing about living his life in the countryside. Sure, the pub gets chaotic every now and then, but when it wasn't, the Doctor felt content.

More of his memories came back. He has a sister, though that's the only thing he knows so far. He has no idea what she looks like or what her name is, but he has a younger sister. Is she still alive? Is she still looking for him?

Aside from that, he remembers spending time in his uncle's estate somewhere in Scotland after the death of his father in his late teens.

"Bored?" a familiar voice said, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder to see Clara leaning against the doorframe.

It was apparently the third Saturday of the month and that meant that the pub was closed for the entire day and night. It was a policy that she had come up with in order to get some well-deserved rest.

"Just trying to grasp at those memories," he confessed, and she slowly entered the room. "And yes, I might be a bit bored."

She flashed him a kind smile. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here because I can show you more of Broughton," she replied. "If you want to see more of it, that is."

He considered her offer and thought that he had nothing to lose in wandering the area. "Where are we going to?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"Oh, somewhere I like to go to just to unwind," she revealed. "We'll be taking the horses."

He shot her a look. He knew that she has a horse in the small stable at the back.

"Dr Mott was kind enough to lend us his, so I hope you're a competent rider."

The Doctor's eyes widened. Does he even know how to ride one? "About that…"

There was a twinkle in her eyes for a brief moment before it disappeared. He was sure he saw it.

"We'll find out when you get on the horse, yeah?"

When they stepped outside, two horses were waiting for them. The brown stallion was Clara's, so that must mean that the other one is for him.

He got on the horse relatively easy, despite it staring at him cautiously and the animal finally relaxed when he took the reins. Maybe he does know how to ride one after all.

Clara silently observed the Doctor, head titled to one side as she allowed him to familiarise himself with the horse. Once she was sure both were comfortable with each other, she kicked Leafy by the side and it galloped away.

"Try to keep up, yeah?" she said cheekily.

The Doctor immediately followed her lead, feeling as though his instincts were at work. Yes, he knows how to do this. It only took him a few minutes to catch up to her and when he did, Leafy dashed off.

"I was being kind!"

He looked down at the horse, realising that he doesn't even know its name. "What's his name?"

"Her name's Fiona."

The Doctor smirked. "Let's show them, Fiona," he muttered before encouraging her to go faster.

When he was sure he was going to catch up to her, she merely glanced to her side and laughed before Leafy ran even faster.

They raced across the wide, open field until reaching a small forest and the horses slowed down before coming to a complete halt in front of a large tree.

"This is what you were talking about?" he asked, looking around after dismounting.

Clara shrugged. "A place to relax, really," she murmured. "And to be fair, I did show you quite a bit more of this town when we raced each other."

The Doctor gently placed a hand on the bark. "Probably the oldest one here."

She stood next to him and looked up. "That's what I thought too – been here since I was a small girl."

"You found this all by yourself?"

Clara chuckled and shook her head. "My father did as he was teaching me how to ride a horse."

He considered asking whatever happened to him but decided against it. "Have you lived here all your life?" he asked, facing her while leaning against the tree.

"No, I was born in Blackpool and lived there for the first twelve years before we moved to Broughton."

His mind then went blank as he saw how close they were. His eyes travelled from her hair to the big round eyes, the nose and then finally, her lips.

There was just something about her scent that made him feel funny. Vanilla and lavender. The Doctor wasn't sure how to describe the feeling.

Clara's eyes fluttered and she tilted her head ever so slightly.

The Doctor leaned forward and lowered his head.

The sound of a horse neighing in the background immediately broke the spell and Clara immediately put some distance between them, panting slightly before her head turned to the direction of where the sound was coming from.

He glanced in the same direction and saw a young man on a horse galloping about in the distance.

Her cheeks still had a rosy tint to them when he gazed at her.

"So, this is my secret hiding spot," she said with a nervous smile.

"Not so secret anymore," he commented, scratching the back of his neck.

"Adding one more person to the list of who knows this spot doesn't hurt," she replied, smoothing her dress even though it was fine. "I thought maybe we could stop by the market and find something to eat for dinner."

The Doctor nodded in agreement, a part of him feeling disappointed that whatever it was that was about earlier was completely forgotten.

"Hope you can still keep up," she murmured, flashing him a look as she trod back to Leafy. The smile morphed into a look fo disappointment as she turned her back to him.

\-- 

"Where do you think she took him?" Jamie asked as he wiped a glass.

"Oh, I bet those two are at that hiding spot of hers," nan replied with a grin. "Next thing you know is that they're planning to get married."

"Seems a bit rushed."

"Have you seen the look they give each other?"

Jamie thought about it for a moment before he nodded in agreement. It wasn't just the looks, but also the way they talk to each other, the occasional blushing and the biggest giveaway of them all? When Clara and the Doctor were in the kitchen working together seamlessly and effortlessly. It was as if they had been doing it for years. He couldn't blame his great-grandmother for getting the wrong impression, which in this case, is likely the right one. "Do you think he'll leave once he remembers everything?"

Nan thought about it for a moment. She herself wasn't sure of the predicament. "I suppose it depends if there is more to it than it seems."

Their conversation was interrupted when the doors swung open and Jeremiah Russel walked in.

Nan raised an eyebrow. "I'm terribly sorry, dear, but we are closed today," she said. "My, I recall you mentioning travelling to London – back so soon?"

Jeremiah flashed her a charming smile. "The business meeting ended earlier than expected," he replied. "I'm terribly sorry for barging in – tell me, is there an inn nearby?"

At this point, nan was sure that his man was no ordinary businessman or whatever it is he claimed to be.

"It seems that my client wishes to open a brewery somewhere in this vicinity and has asked me to look for the perfect location," he revealed.

"There is one just ten miles from here," Jamie stated, resuming his work. Unlike nan, he didn't think much of the traveller as he assumed that the man was just looking for a place to drink.

Jeremiah nodded, murmuring thanks before leaving.

Nan turned to Jamie. "I have a bad feeling about that man," she commented.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Nan, I think you're just imagining things – what's so bad about him?"

"I don't know, but he just seems suspicious."

At that moment, Clara and the Doctor returned from their adventure and nan immediately lit up. "Where did you two go?" she asked suggestively. She noticed the awkward looks between the two and fought the urge to grin.

"I showed the Doctor around," her granddaughter replied.

"Yes, there's a small forest not far from here."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Anyway, we saw someone leaving just now," Clara said, changing the subject as she tried her best to act natural while leaning against a table.

Nan waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, just someone who thought the pub was open."

There was nothing but silence after that and the Doctor cleared his throat. "Just going to head to the kitchen to prepare a few things."

"Yeah, good idea," Clara stated, wondering why on earth she couldn't stop talking. She then headed upstairs to her room to avoid further embarrassment.

As soon as the two disappeared, Jamie and nan exchanged looks.

"Something happened," the boy whispered.

No doubt about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Missy adjusted her hat, making sure she looked presentable before taking a deep breath and exiting the carriage. She looked up at the building before striding inside.

"Ah, Ms Smith," Henry Moffat greeted as he passed her in the hallway.

"I heard your father is back from his brief holiday," she commented.

Henry nodded. He knew the reason why she took the trouble to come to his father's office. "Yes, well, I wouldn't call paying my sick uncle a visit a holiday," he replied with a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, I do hope he's recovering," she said, trying her best to sound sincere, though the eyes told a different story.

"Missy, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Mr Moffat greeted as he stepped aside to let the woman in. He then leaned closer to his son and whispered, "I'll take care of her – go wait for the detective outside."

Mr Moffat then shut the door and straightened his jacket.

"I was told by your son that your brother is sick," Missy said.

The lawyer nodded. "Yes, broke his leg while riding his horse."

In truth, Mr Moffat had actually travelled all the way to Glasgow to search for John Smith. He spent several days there visiting John's childhood home and did not discover a single clue. He was told by the household that John hadn't visited since Christmas of last year. The lawyer then went around, asking if anybody knew the man or had recently made contact with him.

When he realised that there was no point staying there, he returned to London and was informed by his son that Missy had dropped by, inquiring about the will.

As much as he was suspicious of the woman, there was no evidence of her being involved with the disappearance of her brother and he couldn't simply accuse her of foul play.

Though, his gut told him that she was connected to it. He would need clues and evidence to prove that.

"Your son seems to enjoy working for you."

"Oh, well, I do expect him to take over in a few years, give or take," Mr Moffat replied as he settled down in his seat. "Now, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to ask if there was any news on my brother," she revealed. "I went to the police and was told that Detective Lethbridge-Stewart wasn't in, so I came here instead to see if he had told you anything."

"I'm sorry, but the last time I spoke to him was before my trip."

Her face turned sombre. "This is ridiculous, I've waited for two weeks and they haven't made a single progress!"

She would have continued ranting had it not been for the knock at the door. Henry opened the door slightly and stuck his head in. "The detective is here."

Mr Moffat nodded. "Detective Lethbridge-Stewart, we were just talking about you," he said as they shook hands.

"Oh, Ms Smith, what a coincidence," he commented. "Since you're here, I suppose I can bring you up to speed immediately."

Missy's eyes widened. "You found my brother?" she demanded. "Please tell me you found him!"

"We found another witness."

Mr Moffat's face lit up at the mention of this.

The detective cleared his throat. "The witness saw two men on horses carrying what he thought looked like cargo at first until he saw a hand slip from underneath the cover," he revealed.

"What?!" Missy exclaimed in shock. "Please tell me you've found him!"

Alistair shook his head. "The witness saw the men leaving London, heading south."

"What are you waiting for then?" Missy demanded. "You should be out there looking for him!"

The detective nodded. "I have sent my men on a search – they are currently looking for clues."

"I suppose that is better than nothing," Mr Moffat murmured. The only thing he couldn't understand why the kidnappers went south. If they were indeed asking for money, they would have made a demand by now and if he was, God forbid, dead, then why go through the trouble of disposing of the body somewhere miles away?

Henry observed Missy carefully. He wanted to see if he could spot any discrepancies. Her reaction seems genuine so far.

"Is there anything else, detective?" Missy inquired.

"No, but rest assured we are doing everything we can to locate him."

After a few minutes of chatting, she decided it was best to leave, maintaining her sombre expression until she got inside the carriage in which her lips curved upwards. They took the bait.

Those foolish policemen were doing nothing but chasing their own tails and she couldn't help but gloat. As much as she wanted to check up on her brother, there was still uncertainly over whether the man Russell found is indeed him.

She would need confirmation before proceeding further and that meant waiting for a few days while the private detective did his own digging.

\-- 

Jeremiah took a bite of the pasty, wondering how he could strike up a conversation with the chef without arousing suspicion. The pub was a bit quieter compared to the last time he had visited but that didn't mean he could throw questions at the owne out of the blue.

Luckily for him, he didn't spot the elderly lady anywhere and that meant he wasn't being pestered by her.

Jeremiah had chosen a quiet corner of the room to enjoy his drink and snack. It was also a nice cover for him to eavesdrop on people's conversation. Perhaps the patrons could give him a clue.

A group of men walked in about twenty minutes later and sat just a few away from his table.

"You ordering the usual again?"

"Wouldn't be a complete trip if I didn't!"

"Funny how this place got livelier thanks to a man who lost his memory," a third man commented as he took his seat.

"Wait, he lost his memory?" the first one said. "I thought he was homeless and Clara took him in."

"No, no, she found him outside the pub one morning and he can't remember who he was," another explained. "Or so my wife told me."

Jeremiah took another bite of his snack. He sat in his seat for a bit longer until he managed to catch Clara's attention by raising his hand. "This is really good," he complimented. "Could I have a few more?"

She nodded. "Yep, just let me check with the chef."

"He's the talk of this town now, yeah?" he commented just as she was about to leave.

The pub owner shrugged. "I think they're just excited that something happened in this quiet place."

"Is it true he doesn't remember anything?" Jeremiah murmured.

"Just bits and pieces of things that are missing," she answered, wondering why the man was so interested to know more about the Doctor.

He raised an eyebrow. "So why does everyone here call him the Doctor?"

"Because he is one," she replied, her instinct kicking in and telling her that something was off.

"I'll be back for these," Jeremiah said, holding up the pasty before taking a large bite of it.

Clara turned around and headed for the kitchen, unable to shake the slightly creepy feeling she got from the man.

"Are you ok?" the Doctor asked as he noticed that Clara looked different. She didn't seem happy or content. He peeked outside and noted that none of the patrons was fighting, so it must be something else.

She forced a smile. "Yeah, must be feeling tired."

There was still that tension between them since the trip to the forest that neither wished to address. While they got along just fine, both knew they needed to talk over what nearly happened, but fear of rejection and ruined friendships got in the way.

"I don't think I've ever seen that look when you're exhausted," the Doctor commented.

Clara beamed. "Oh, have you been secretly watching me?" she teased.

His face fell. "No, I just know the difference when you look genuinely upset and when you're tired," he said. He knew he screwed up.

She sighed. "Just another patron behaving strangely and no, he did not say something inappropriate before you come to that conclusion."

The Doctor washed his hands and gave her his full attention. "What did he say?"

"Nothing much, but I can't help but have a bad feeling about him."

"Do you want him kicked out?"

She immediately shook her head. "Oh, God no," she chuckled. "I was probably just being silly."

"It's not silly if your gut is telling you something's wrong."

They stared at each other before Clara decided to change the subject and looked at the wall behind him. "So, do we still have enough for the night?" she inquired, nodding at the dough. "We have a few advanced orders."

"Yes, boss."

She lit up at the nickname he had given her. They locked eyes and she thought it was best to just address the elephant in the room before it got bigger. "Doctor, about the-"

The sound of broken glass immediately caught their attention and they rushed out to discover several men fighting.

Just another night at the pub. And another missed opportunity.

\-- 

When Clara woke up the next morning, she went about her day without much interruption until Jamie decided to corner her when the Doctor went out to run a few errands.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Creepily."

"Whatever do you mean, Auntie Clara."

She put her hands akimbo and knew that her nephew wanted to know more about the Doctor. She could tell that nan and Jamie had been giving her strange looks since the day off. "Are you nan's spy now?"

Jamie raised both eyebrows. "I have no idea what you meant by that."

"Of course you don't," Clara said sarcastically as she began arranging the glasses.

"But let's be honest here, even a blind man could tell that something happened between you and the Doctor."

She looked over his shoulder and squinted her eyes. "Only a person who's seeing imaginary things would say something like that."

"And only a person who's hiding something would say that."

Perhaps she may have tutored her nephew a little too well. Besides, she wasn't keen on talking about the near kiss. The Doctor looked terrified at the mention of it, so it was best to just move on and forget about it.

"Nan's being kind by sparing you from her interrogation."

Clara rolled her eyes. Sure, her grandmother was well versed when it came to reading people, but that didn't mean she was right all the time.

"Really?" she muttered. "What did she say?"

"Something about you looking at the Doctor like you want to snog him."

Clara chuckled nervously. Snog him?! She might have let her guard down a little too much for nan to notice. "Nan is just saying that because the Doctor and I are good friends."

"You sure it's not more than just friends?" Jamie suggested.

His aunt pointed a finger at him. "Dishes duty tonight."

His face fell. "What?"

"You heard me, Mr Spy."

"That's not fair," he argued weakly as it was useless trying to change her mind.

"Serves you right," Clara said before looking out the window. It was almost dark, and the Doctor should be back any minute now. Customers would also start popping in shortly.

"I'm sorry?" the boy tried.

"Dishes duty."

Jamie's shoulders sagged and he threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

At that moment, the doors to the pub swung open and a woman in a purple coat with a duck hat entered. "Is this Oswald Pub?" she inquired.


	8. Chapter 8

Missy Smith took her seat at a table by the corner of the room and eyed her surroundings carefully. When Jeremiah reported back to her that her brother is indeed lodging at the pub and that he had suffered memory loss, she knew she had to travel up north to see it for herself.

"I've heard so much about the baked goods here," she commented sweetly. "And the drinks."

Jamie grinned. "Yeah, we've been told that the pasties are to die for."

"What can we get you?" Clara asked from behind the bar.

"Scotch will do and obviously, the pasties."

Missy took off her gloves, pretending to mind her own business when she was actually listening in on the exchange.

"Tell the Doctor to get a plate of pastries in the oven."

Missy restrained herself from laughing. She didn't quite believe it when Jeremiah told her of this, but it was actually true! Her brother can't remember his name but remembers that he's a doctor. Pretentious.

While waiting for her drink and snacks, she contemplated her plan. The last thing she wanted to do was get recognised by her own brother, but she doubted that that was the case seeing as to how he's still living here with these peasants. Regardless, she was prepared if John knows who she is. She could just say that she was out and about looking for him and hired a private detective to help find his whereabouts.

"The oven is still heating!" a familiar voice complained from the kitchen.

Missy shifted in her seat slightly.

"How long is that going to take?" Clara yelled back as she produced a glass of scotch on the bar. "And I didn't say I wanted them now, Doctor."

"Another five to seven minutes?" he replied, sticking his head out.

Missy couldn't help but stare at her sibling. He looks the same but there was something different about him. He's still grumpy, yes, but that cheeky smile on his face told her that something in him had changed. She ever rarely saw him smile and to see him like this made her wonder if she had inadvertently caused a blessing in disguise.

John turned his head to the left and glanced at her and frowned.

She looked away and stared at the walls.

The Doctor was now standing in the corridor, still eyeing her.

"Doctor, is everything ok?" Clara murmured and she stepped closer to him.

He could have sworn she looked familiar, as though they had met before. "Yes, I… just think that I know that person."

Clara took a quick look at Missy before returning her gaze to him. "Well, maybe you should talk to her."

"I'm probably just getting it all mixed up like last time."

"There's no harm in trying," she encouraged before grabbing his arm and dragging him to the woman.

Missy looked at them in confusion. "Yes?"

"Sorry, but my friend here would just like to ask you a question."

The Doctor stared at Clara like a lost puppy before she nodded. "Have we met before?" he asked his sister.

She shook her head slowly. "I don't think so…"

There was a look of disappointment on his face.

"It's just that he lost his memory and is trying to piece all the puzzles together."

Missy looked away from her brother, suddenly feeling a surge of guilt. She could come clean and tell John the truth but then, she would surely get questioned as to why she pretended not to recognise him in the first place.

No. No. She was sticking to her original plan. John seems to be content here, so really, she was doing him a favour instead of living alone in his flat. Yes. For the time being, her brother shall remain here in this small town until she got everything she wanted. "Sorry to hear that, I wish I could be of help."

Missy saw Clara place a reassuring hand on his arm and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Well, the private detective was right about these two pining for each other.

The Doctor said nothing as he returned to the kitchen.

"Don't take it too personally," Clara said. "He's been stuck here for almost three weeks and I'm sure it's starting to frustrate him."

Missy leaned against the table. "Oh, I completely understand – I will pass on the news to my family and friends."

She then looked out the window, so as to hide the smile. She didn't think it would be this easy to get all the inheritance with her brother out of the way.

\-- 

"The lead-in Brighton was an absolute waste of time," Detective Lethbridge-Stewart grumbled as he and Mr Moffat sat in a lounge.

"Quite frankly, nothing seems to make sense at the moment," the lawyer sighed.

"Are you still suspicious of the sister?"

Mr Moffat pondered the question for a moment. A part of him wanted to say no since there was nothing concrete proving that Missy had anything to do with John's disappearance while the other wanted to say yes because it was too much of a coincidence. Archie Smith had talked a lot about his niece and nephew, treating them like children of his own since his daughter died at a young age. "I honestly do not know anymore."

The police detective arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I said that I suspect foul play because Missy was bitter that her brother received everything during will reading," he explained. "Though, there's nothing to suggest she… took matters into her own hands."

The detective stared at the lawyer for a second before setting down his drink. "We might just put her under surveillance if that's the case."

"You're seriously considering her a suspect?"

Gordon shrugged. "Anything is possible these days – father killing his infant son, daughter betraying her father, so it's no surprise if the sister did plot this."

Mr Moffat lowered his head. "I suppose it's the next logical step and if she is indeed innocent, she'll be off the list."

"A very short list at that."

\-- 

The Doctor stared at his breakfast, mind clearly someplace else while Clara eyed him discreetly. Jamie happily ate his meal while nan had a knowing smile on her face.

"Not hungry, Doctor?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the pub owner. "I can't help but think that the woman from yesterday looks like someone I know… or knew."

Clara and nan exchanged looks.

"You said the same thing about Mr Hearn when he was here two nights ago," Jamie pointed out. "And it turned out to be nothing."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, it's different – I could have sworn I've seen that face before."

"Maybe she reminds you of someone?" Clara suggested. "Which is why I think it's a good idea for you to travel to Glasgow."

He dropped his shoulders and grabbed the cutlery. Might as well eat before the food gets cold. As much as he wanted to travel back to his hometown, he didn't have enough money just yet. Clara was generous enough to pay him for his baking services, but money wasn't the issue.

A part of him dreaded the day he would leave the pub. He had only known the family for three weeks, but it felt like a decade to him. What happens if he gets his memories back? What if he's actually married?

After breakfast, Clara was able to send Jamie to the market and convinced nan to go to the stables, so that she could have a private chat with the Doctor.

She found him in the spare bedroom, sitting on his bed and scribbling something in his notebook. It was only now she noticed how long his fingers were and from what could gather from a distance, he was talented at drawing.

He looked up and lowered the pencil, eyes wide like an owl and the sight made her smile.

"You're looking at me with those inflatable eyes again," he commented and she immediately looked embarrassed.

"No, I'm not."

"What brings Ms Clara Oswald to my humble abode, which, when considering the circumstance, is her humble abode," he said, closing the notebook and standing up.

"I meant what I said this morning," she murmured, producing a small white envelope. "A ticket to Glasgow."

"Clara…"

She shook her head. "Look, I know you're getting bored of this place and that you're probably curious if there's someone out there looking for you, so here's your chance," she continued, handing him the envelope.

He stared at her intently. She was misunderstanding his demeanour. He wasn't bored with her or them. If anything, deep down, he wanted to stay at the pub. "Getting rid of me, I see."

She laughed. "I never said you'd never be welcomed here."

He gazed down at the ticket, the envelope sitting in between their hands.

"Besides, it's a return ticket, so don't think for a moment you can forget about us in case things don't go as planned."

"Which is why I think it would be a good idea for you to go with him," a gentle voice said from the door.

They whirled around and were surprised to see the elderly woman. Shouldn't she be checking up on Leafy? "Nan, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear all about your little planned adventure," nan replied, nodding at the Doctor. "I stand by what I said."

Clara could tell it was an elaborate ploy to get her and the Doctor closer together. As much as she didn't mind following him, there was just one tiny problem: the pub. She couldn't let her nan do all the hard work and Jamie just isn't ready for that sort of responsibility.

"Nan."

"Clara."

The grandmother gave her grandchild a sweet smile. "It's just a short trip after all and besides, Jamie and I can run this place while you and the Doctor set off to Glasgow."

"Jamie is still a child, nan."

"And what makes you think he'll be running the ship?"

The Doctor looked back forth between the two women. He shouldn't be caught up in this. How can he get out of this without sounding rude or awkward?

Clara sighed tiredly. "Nan, it will be a busy night and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Bit insulting, if I'm honest."

"I am not going anywhere, nan."

"And you want the Doctor to get lost while navigating through the streets of Glasgow?"

The Doctor finally spoke. "I'm sure it will come to me-"

"Hush," Clara shushed.

He raised his eyebrows. There was just something about her bossiness that made her attractive.

"See, even you know he'll walk around like a helpless puppy," nan argued. "You and he should go together."

Clara knew her grandmother had a point. Besides, when was the last time she ever went anywhere beyond the small town? Probably when she was a little girl.

Nan beamed. "You know I'm right."

The pub owner glanced at the Doctor. "Do you want me to come with you?"

The Doctor blinked twice. "Yes."

"That's settled, then – you can go get your ticket, which I have with me."

Of course, her nan would mastermind such a scheme.


	9. Chapter 9

"They're planning to travel to Glasgow."

Missy, who was reading the papers with one hand and bringing the cup of tea with the other, paused and looked up at the private detective. Suddenly, she found the sounds of birds chirping in the open garden annoying. "What?"

"I overheard Oswald's grandmother mentioning to one of the patrons that she and your brother will be travelling to Glasgow together."

That was going to be a bit risky on her part since if John suddenly remembers a crucial part of his life, then she's screwed or what if one of the household members sees him? That would be disastrous.

"When?" she asked calmly.

"In two days."

Missy sighed and folded the newspaper before tossing it carelessly to one side. "What's he going to do?" she grumbled. "Ask people around if they know him?"

Jeremiah remained silent as he himself wasn't sure what the true purpose of the trip was.

"I have to make sure the household doesn't spot him," she said. As much as she hated spending more of her funds, she knew she had to send Russel to follow her brother and his little friend. "Did you find anything about the Oswald girl?"

He nodded before straightening his back. "She was born in Blackpool and then her family moved to Broughton where her father ran the pub," he began. "Her mother died when she was a young girl – the father died a decade ago."

"Sounds like one tragedy after another."

"She's got an older brother who's passed away too, so the boy she's taking care of is her nephew," Jeremiah continued. "Worked as a governess for quite some time and then quit before taking over her dad's pub."

Missy took all the information in and chuckled. Sounds like the type of woman her brother would fancy. Intelligent and determined. "I'm sure you can guess what your new task will be."

"I can't get too close – they might recognise me, but I can observe them from afar."

"Exactly what I thought," the woman murmured. "For as long as you can keep him away from members of the household and I can assure you, that there are only about a handful of them left, I'll be happy."

The private detective nodded.

"Did you manage to find out more details about the trip?" she questioned. "Lodging and such."

"Under progress."

Missy reached down and grabbed her purse before producing a small envelope. "I'm sure you'll be needing that for your adventure in Glasgow."

"Much appreciated."

As he was ready to leave, she stopped him. "This is a very time-sensitive matter, Mr Russel," she reminded. "I think it's a good idea to throw a red herring to them."

He exhaled through his nose. "What do you have in mind?"

She only needed to wait for a little over two weeks for the agreements of the will to default to her and there was no way in hell she was allowing anyone or anything to spoil it. "Something that will provide a much-needed distraction for them."

\-- 

"Just so we are clear, do not under any circumstances, touch the stove or the oven," Clara reminded her nephew as she made her rounds around the pub and inspected it.

"You've been saying that for the fourth time now," Jamie complained. "I know how to use the stove-"

She shot him a look and silenced the boy immediately. "Would you like me to remind you what nearly happened last time?"

Her nephew pouted. "I was only ten at that time!"

Clara merely smiled and ruffled his hair. "Which means you can't do any sort of cooking until I say it's ok."

It was around seven in the morning and she had decided to remind Jamie of the responsibilities he had to shoulder while she was away with the Doctor for two days.

"Fine," the 12-year-old agreed in defeat. "No using the stove or oven."

"Keep an eye on nan too and don't let her do anything that will strain her."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Easier said than done," he muttered. "Auntie, I think you need to relax a bit and have a bit of faith."

Happy with the state of the pub, Clara turned around to face her nephew. "I do have faith in you – just not in the kitchen," she joked. "Oh, and don't forget to complete your homework."

"Yes, boss."

She beamed. It seems that even her nephew has started calling her that, all thanks to the Doctor.

"Anything else, your royal highness?"

Being cheeky, is he? "Yeah, clean the entire pub while I'm away."

Jamie's face morphed into that of horror and regret almost instantly and he hoped that his aunt was joking. "What?"

"You heard me, mister."

"You're joking again, aren't you?"

The stern she gave him said otherwise and he immediately got into a flurry of apologies before Clara finally cracked a smile. "That should keep you on your toes while I'm away."

"While on your romantic getaway!" nan exclaimed as she entered the room.

Clara hid her face in her hand. "Nan, for the last time, we are not going on a romantic getaway and there's no certainty that he's not married, to begin with."

"I bet this pub that he isn't."

"Nan!"

"That's how certain I am," the elderly woman announced proudly. "Where's the future husband?" she asked. "Still not back from running his errands."

"He's buying a new shirt and no, he's not back yet."

Nan clicked her fingers. "You didn't deny that he's not your future husband."

Jamie tried his best to stifle his laugh. How does it feel to taste your own medicine now?

"Ha, ha," Clara mumbled sarcastically.

"On a more serious note, I made you and the Doctor some food for the journey."

Just as her granddaughter was about to scold her, she held up her hand. "Another word from you young lady and I will tease the Doctor as soon as he sets foot through that door."

"Sorry it took me so long," the man apologised as he strode in with a packet. "I bumped into Donna and she caught wind that we were about to travel."

Clara flashed him an amused look. "Did she threaten you again?"

"Something along the lines of 'do anything inappropriate to Clara and I'll conjure right in front of you'," he said, mimicking her accent.

Jamie nodded. "Yep, that's Donna."

"You ready to leave?"

The Doctor held up the packet. "I just need to sort a few things out and we can leave."

As soon as he disappeared into his room, nan took the opportunity to give her granddaughter another sensible advice. "Men like him are very rare – don't let it go to waste."

An hour later, Clara and the Doctor were at the train station, waiting for the service to Glasgow to make its brief stop.

They looked in opposite directions as they stood by the platform.

"I asked a friend to find lodging for you and I think he mentioned an inn on Hartnell St."

"Bit of a walking distance from the station," he mumbled before realising what he had just said.

Her eyes lit up. "That's another detail to add to the list of things you remember."

The Doctor couldn't help but feel enthusiastic as he produced his notebook and pencil. The more he thought and talked about Glasgow, the more he remembers and that could only mean they were heading in the right direction. Perhaps there is hope that he will find a friend or family member there.

Clara then suggested, "Maybe you used to live there - in the city?"

He thought about it for a second and shook his head. "Doesn't feel like it."

"Only one way to find out," she said, reaching for her small suitcase as the train signalled that it had finally arrived.

"I never said it, but thank you, Clara Oswald," the Doctor murmured.

She beamed. "Don't thank me just yet," she replied. "We'll be in second class and that's miles away from comfort."

"Can't be that bad."

He was speechless once he stepped into the coach and saw how crowded it was.

"Told you."

"Hush, Miss Oswald."

"I told you so," she teased as they walked through the narrow space, trying to find an empty seat. "I think I see a spot at the back."

Luck was on their side that day as there was indeed an empty spot at the back, next to a man who was dozing off.

While it looked as though it could only fit one person, they could technically sit together, though it would be a bit of a tight squeeze.

Clara set her luggage aside before claiming the empty space and patted the small gap between her and the sleeping passenger.

The Doctor didn't mind one bit about sitting very closely to Clara Oswald, but the stranger? No thank you. "I don't mind standing."

"You're not actually going to stand there for hours on end, are you?"

Sensing that he wasn't comfortable being so close to a stranger, she moved away from the wall. "There."

The Doctor reluctantly sat next to Clara, eyeing her carefully. "Are you comfortable?"

"Snug."

"What about that man-"

She decided to put an end to his questions by leaning against him, earning a surprised look and leaving a small gap between her and the stranger. Nan would be over the moon if she witnessed this.

In the next coach, Jeremiah Russel was trying his best to control his emotions as the annoying child next to him kept bothering him. He kept throwing him every single question he could think of, from where he was from to what he was doing on the train and where he was going.

"Do you think we'll be able to get to Glasgow faster in the future?" the boy chattered. "What do you think everyone will look like fifty, no, one hundred years from now?"

Jeremiah, having had enough of the child's antics, finally snapped. He glared at the child and leaned forward. "In the 21st century, mental patients will run the world and children like you will be taught to think that two plus two equals five."

The boy, taken back by the man's scary voice and comment, immediately fell silent and scooted closer to his mother who was chatting to another passenger.

Pleased that he finally got some peace and quiet, the private detective craned his neck and peered into the other coach. He could see that the two lovebirds were still seated next to one another. The Oswald girl was reading a book and Smith was looking out the window.

Jeremiah sighed. It was going to be a long journey. He considered charging Missy for having to go through this ordeal, especially after being annoyed by a child.

He adjusted his fake glasses and crossed his arms, discreetly observing the couple.


	10. Chapter 10

Clara buried her nose in the book she was reading, hoping that it would hide the smile playing on her lips. She took a quick glance at the sleeping man who had his head rested on her shoulder.

She could hear the two women sitting across from them whispering at each other and making remarks. Nothing of malice nature, just something along the lines of her 'husband' being adorable and how they looked like newlyweds.

The smile then faded. Wait, why was she feeling giddy in the first place? Comments like that shouldn't make her feel happy and bubbly. One, because she and the Doctor were neither married nor engaged and two, there was still the matter they needed to talk about.

A loud whistle was heard before the train came to a complete halt a second later, jerking a little too violently, causing some passengers to nearly fall off their seats.

The Doctor immediately woke up at the sudden motion and looked around with sleepy eyes. "Are we finally in Glasgow?" he asked tiredly.

"Almost," Clara replied, lowering her book. "We're in Newcastle."

"Still far away."

"You can go back to using my shoulder as a makeshift pillow," she teased, enjoying the confused look he gave her.

"I don't understand."

"You slept throughout the journey."

"Rested my eyes."

She chuckled. "Rested your eyes and used my shoulder as a pillow."

He stared at her blankly, wondering what to make of her comment. He could feel his cheeks heating up, but she didn't seem angry in the slightest. "Are you mad or are you amused?"

Another whistle was heard, and the train began moving slowly.

"The latter," she answered, returning to the book.

The Doctor leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. There was nothing out there except for the empty green field stretching for miles and miles.

His thoughts were momentarily distracted when he suddenly felt something or rather, someone pressing against him.

Clara was still engrossed in that new book of hers, but this time, she was leaning against him.

The Doctor said nothing, preferring the chaotic silence of the coach, as he called it since the only thing that could be heard was the engines of the train. There was still the thought of the forest incident looming over his head, but he was too scared to say anything. At this point, he was half sure that he imagined the entire thing.

The journey took another three hours before finally reaching its final destination of the day: Glasgow.

To say that it was chaotic would be an understatement as people were passing by back and forth the moment they stepped out of the coach.

"Far too many people for my liking," he grumbled, helping Clara with her luggage as they headed for the exit.

"Did Doctor Grumpy not get enough rest?"

He secretly preferred being back in Broughton, back in the forest with Clara and finally having the courage to kiss her, but alas, here they were, in his hometown, supposedly.

"So, where's this so-called accommodation you mentioned?" he inquired.

"Not far from here," she replied. "I have a friend who's an innkeeper."

It took them twenty minutes to get to the inn and on their way there, they passed various shops and buildings, hoping that something might trigger one of his memories.

Their accommodation was located in a corner of the street, tucked between a bakery and clothing store.

The moment they set foot inside the building, a man behind the counter immediately recognised her. "Clara?"

"Hi, Rory," she greeted warmly.

Rory then glanced at the Doctor before looking back at his friend. Did she get married or engaged and he was unaware of it?

"I know it's been a while, but Amy told me a few months back that she's expecting – congratulations!"

Rory beamed. "Thank you, so who's your friend?"

The Doctor stood in the centre of the room awkwardly.

"This is the Doctor, Doctor, this is Rory."

Rory finally relaxed. At least now Amy won't kill him for thinking that she had missed her bestie's wedding. "Doctor Who?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out actually."

The man chuckled. "Amy is going to love this."

"Love what?" a voice at the back asked before Amy Pond herself appeared from the small office. "Clara!" she gasped. "What are you doing here and why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Clara hugged her friend. "It was a bit of a last-minute thing – sorry," she apologised. "Anyway, this is the Doctor."

"Wait, did you get married?"

The pub owner grinned. "Not the first time someone made that assumption today and no, Amy."

"Oh, you must tell, but I bet you're exhausted after the journey," she commented. "Luckily for you two, we have a few vacant rooms."

Rory then grabbed the keys and walked up the staircase. "Second floor up we go."

Just as Clara walked past the reception desk, Amy shot her a suggestive look. Looks like she'll be catching up with her best friend for quite a while.

"Right," Rory said once they reached the top floor. "These rooms next to each other are yours," he continued before handing them the key.

"Thank you, Rory."

"Thank you."

The man nodded in acknowledgement before disappearing down the stairs.

Clara turned to face the Doctor who stood in front of his room. "I'm guessing you want to get some rest first before we're out and about again?"

"Don't let me stop you from exploring," she replied. "Any luck in the memory department?"

He set his suitcase down and shook his head before playing with the key. "No, nothing seems to be coming back… yet."

She gazed at his hands before her eyes moved up to his neck, lips and then eyes. "I'm sure something in this city will trigger another memory," she murmured.

He still looked down at the keys he was fiddling with, as though as there was something on his mind.

Clara decided that they should just address the elephant in the room. "Doctor."

"Yes?" he answered, finally looking up with wide eyes.

"About the… well, the forest."

He dreaded this moment. What was he thinking at that time? A woman like her would never be interested in someone like him. He's old and can't even remember who he is. "Ah, yes…," whispered, avoiding her gaze.

She took a deep breath and convinced herself to be brave. "The near kiss, it was a shame it didn't happen."

The Doctor wasn't sure if he was just imagining it or that the words that came from Clara were real. Did she say what he heard she say? He knitted his eyebrows together. "You wanted it to happen?"

"I know it's silly and ridiculous – you could be married for all we know-"

He wasted no time holding her face gently with both hands before leaning forward and capturing her lips.

She took her time to respond as the shock of what was happening still paralysed her, but when it subsided, she kissed him back and grabbed the lapels of his coat.

"It's happened now," the Doctor said once they had pulled away.

Clara bit her bottom lip, cheeks flustered.

"Ahem."

They looked in the source of the voice and saw a young woman who was clearly not amused by what she had witnessed. "Why would you snog in the hallway when you have a room?" she grumbled before walking past them and going downstairs.

The Doctor and Clara immediately put some space between them.

"So I'll see you at around six-ish?" she suggested. "We could look for dinner together."

He nodded, unable to help himself from smiling. "Dinner, yes."

Without another word, she unlocked the door and entered the room before shutting it quickly. Clara touched her lips, grinning from ear to ear. She certainly wants to kiss the Doctor again.

\-- 

Missy pulled the curtain back slightly, glancing out the large window to survey the busy street. While it may be full of people at the moment, she could easily spot the undercover policemen as they had been staying put in the same spot since earlier in the morning.

She turned around in a huff and gritted her teeth. Surely the detective didn't see her as a suspect? She took great measure to cover her tracks and even bribed a few bent officers to inform her of any updates and plans.

She stomped into the drawing-room, growing more impatient with each passing second and if she dared to admit, anxious. Her brother and the Oswald girl would surely have arrived in Glasgow by now.

She has faith in Russel to not let them wander close to the family home or even bump into someone that might recognise John. Luckily for her, there were very few people who knew her brother, so her biggest concern at the moment was the household. If they spot or recognise him, then it's over for her and she didn't get this far to lose everything.

For now, Missy had no choice but to wait for Russel to return and complete his task successfully.

If there was one thing she hated, it was being idle. An idea then popped inside her head. She could play a little game with the undercover policemen.

"Better than being cooped up in here," she muttered, retrieving her hat and umbrella.

Missy strode through the streets of London briskly, head held high. She was able to identify two officers so far and she was sure it won't be long before another one is spotted. Seems like she is being closely monitored and that meant she couldn't have her meeting with Russel in person.

She stopped at a flower shop, examining a bouquet of lilies. From the corner of her eye, a man in a brown trench coat could be seen leaning against the wall just a few feet away from her. His attire made him look like any other ordinary person, but the shoes screamed constable.

Missy straightened her back and with determination, continued walking to her favourite restaurant for dinner. On her way there, she hoped that Russel was doing his job of keeping her brother away from trouble.

And that was exactly what he was doing as he glanced at the inn Clara and John had taken lodging in. Going in there would be risky as they surely would recognise him, so he went to the inn across the street. 'Rassilon's'.


End file.
